


the more i see you

by daydreamsago



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Romantic Gestures, Set in 2009, dream - Freeform, featuring an abandoned house, paranormal elements, they have not met yet here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 11:56:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18282014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydreamsago/pseuds/daydreamsago
Summary: "Dan? What are-" Phil is interrupted by the unmistakable sound of the piano keys being struck. At first, the sound is violent and random—a wild jumble of notes all at once. It then begins to fade into a beautiful song, some sad crooning melody that Sinatra probably sang back in the day.





	the more i see you

**Author's Note:**

> this poured out of me a few nights ago, i’m just lazy and hate editing. named after the song ‘the more i see you’!

Again, and again, and again—he's falling. Deeper each time. It never stops, he only gets further in.

Phil climbs into bed that night with a heavy head. Exhaustion eases his lids closed; working so much is taxing. His body melts into the bed, grateful for its familiarity and softness. It doesn't take long before he drifts off to sweet, sweet dreamland.

Dan is at the forefront of his brain, always floating about his conscious mind. He always is. But he's also in his subconscious, and Phil sees him in his sleep. Nearly every single night, his face lights up the space behind his eyelids. He's there, never late, seldom absent from his mind during slumber.

The scenes don't make sense. They have never even happened, for the two of them have yet to meet face to face. Phil still finds himself confused when he awakes, not knowing if the pictures his brain creates are real or just a beautiful fabrication.

In tonight's wonderful vision, the sky is illuminated by the waxing moon. Midnight is approaching, and they're in an abandoned house together.

_Dan is holding a dimming flashlight in one hand, and Phil's hand in the other. Phil can feel the sensation of skin on skin, so intoxicating, and so real. The old wooden floorboards are dusty and scratched; far from immaculate. They groan beneath their feet as they make slow, deliberate steps forward._

_Phil looks to Dan. The darkness of the house makes it difficult to see his face, but he can make out his outline. He would know Dan in the brightest sunlight or the deepest, darkest night. He looks to Phil, shining the flashlight up towards the cracked ceiling. It seems brighter now._

_"There's something about abandoned places that I like," Dan begins. "They feel like another world. The present doesn't matter when you're immersed in the beauty of the past."_

_Phil leans in so he can see his face better. Their hands are still intertwined, fingers in a lover's tangle. "That's not something you'd say," he quips. His voice sounds like it's echoing, and perhaps it is._

_"Maybe not, but does it matter?" It's a rhetorical question. "Nothing else matters, just us. You and me." He smiles, and his face blurs at the edges._

_Phil feels him squeeze his hand, solid and ever so real. Then he lets go. He watches him place the flashlight on a stool, covered in cobwebs and dust. God knows only how long it's been since anyone has sat down on it._

_Dan stands before him, frozen. Phil is almost afraid the dream is over, before he reaches out and places his hands on either side of his face. They're warm. "Just you and me," he repeats, softer this time._

_His voice is like honey. Phil could listen all night. All day. Forever. "Is this real?" he asks, testing the waters._

_"Why do you ask?" Dan cocks an eye._

_Phil looks into his eyes, and there's that old falling feeling again. He thinks he's floating. "Because I'm not sure," he replies simply._

_"It's real if you want it to be," is all Dan says, before he lets go of Phil's face and reaches for the light. "Now, let's go explore."_

_Phil's nodding his head before he even processes the words. Of course he wants it to be real. Why wouldn't he? He follows Dan through what was probably a dining room, then another little room. A living room? A sitting room? Perhaps they called it a parlor back then._

_The wallpaper is peeling and chipping; dirty fragments of the floral design line the floor along the wall. Back in the day, they were vibrant yellow sunflowers, but after years of neglect, they have sadly faded. As for the rest of the space: the downstairs has little furniture left behind, only the odd stool and a mangled looking side table remains. The house appears to be stripped of anything of value._

_Phil thinks about what Dan said moments ago. He is certainly immersed in the past, as he imagines what happened here many years ago. Who lived here? And why did they leave? More importantly, are they here right now, watching them walk around their home from the afterlife? Phil shivers, his skin erupting in goosebumps. He brushes his fingertips along his arms. This is real, so very real._

_The kitchen looks no better than the rest of the place—everything destroyed. The old sink is full of what appears to be broken wine glasses, and all of the cabinets are either open or broken off their hinges, the pieces littering the floor. Tattered lacy curtains cover a shattered window; once, many moons ago, perhaps they were pristine. There's so much dirt and dust, it's hard to imagine someone ever cooking a meal here._

_Phil can hear Dan's footsteps behind him, the crunch of glass accompanying them. He turns around. He wants to say a million things to this Dan, wants to pour his heart out right here and now, in this derelict house. "Watch the glass, Dan," is the only thing that makes it past his lips._

_Dan stops. "I'm okay, Phil," he says, shining the flashlight back up at the ceiling again. He makes his way to Phil, the crunching getting louder the closer he gets. "You're such a worrier."_

_"I just care about you." Phil finds it surprisingly easy to look him in the eye. They're so bright and full of life, even in the dim light. He wonders if Dan's eyes are this pretty in real life._

_But this is real... right?_

_Dan's smiling at him. Phil decides he doesn't care about anything else. This is all he wants, everything he's ever wanted, somehow. He reaches out to touch Dan, the back of his hand against his cheek. He's warm. Real._

I love you, _he thinks. He doesn't voice it, but he's never wanted to more._

_"I know you do." Dan melts into his touch, like some meek baby animal; so fragile._

_Phil stares for a few moments, though it feels like a few lifetimes. Time is all strange and twisted. He tilts his head, eyes still fixed on Dan. "I want to see the upstairs."_

_"Me too."_

_He lets his hand drop from his face, missing the warmth immediately. He follows Dan to the staircase: it looks sturdy, but he's worried it may not support the two of them at the same time. They stand, shoulder to shoulder, at the bottom. The house then shifts, emitting a creaking sound that catches Phil off guard. His heart begins to race._

_Phil takes a deep breath. "I'll go first."_

_"It'll be fine, Phil," Dan reassures. He shines the light up each step, checking them one by one. "They're intact, see? No rotting."_

_"Whatever you say." Phil puts one foot on the first step, then turns to Dan and holds out an empty hand._

_Dan smiles and takes Phil's hand, intertwining their fingers together once more. They make their way up the ancient staircase, each step sighing with their weight. When they reach the second floor, Dan visibly shivers. It feels much colder than first floor does._

_Their hands stay together, for it is as if they are both afraid what will happen if they part. Phil forgets to enjoy it throughly, as he's too entranced in what remains before his eyes._

_A master bedroom, empty of furniture, but one thing has been left behind. It sits in the middle of the room, and it looks as though it's the only item in the entire house that's worth anything: a piano. A beautiful wooden piano, in the middle of a house that has clearly been abandoned for many years. Why?_

_Dan shines the light on it. "What..." his voice fades in shock._

_The two of them approach the piano, keeping their footsteps soft on the old floor. Phil notices how clean it is; not a single speck of dust is evident. There's a beam of moonlight coming through another cracked window. It helps to reveal a freshly polished surface. Something isn't right._

_"Dan," Phil starts, panic in his voice. "I think we should get out of here."_

_Dan then does something Phil doesn't expect him to do: he clicks the flashlight off. The room grows darker, faint moonlight being the only source of light now._

_"Dan? What are-" Phil is interrupted by the unmistakable sound of the piano keys being struck. At first, the sound is violent and random—a wild jumble of notes all at once. It then begins to fade into a beautiful song, some sad crooning melody that Sinatra probably sang back in the day._

_Dan discards the flashlight, lifts their connected hands, then brings Phil in by the waist. Before he can utter a word, they're dancing around the room, twirling and gliding across the floor like they were born to do so. He can't stop his feet from moving, and can't take his eyes off of Dan's. He feels impossibly warm. A fever? Phil doesn't know._

_Time thickens like molasses, slow and decadent. Dan starts to hum along to the song the piano is playing on its own, then lyrics escape his blurry lips._

_"The more I see you, the more I want you..."_

Phil jolts awake, sitting up abruptly in bed. He's clutching the sheets, they're balled up in both of his fists. He blinks his eyes as a sigh escapes his lips. In the middle of the night in his dark, lonely bedroom, he starts to cry. Why did he think that dream was real? And why had it been so unsettling, yet so enjoyable at the same time?

He dreams of Dan almost every night, but this time, it felt more real. And perhaps that's why he feels so empty, waking up all alone, without the one he wants to hold in his arms. This fabrication hurts, and realizing that it's just a fabrication hurts more.

Each night that Dan haunts his dreams, he falls a little deeper. Again, and again, and again. It never stops. He just keeps falling.

He shoots him a quick message before he tries to go back to sleep. _Thinking of you, I can't wait to see you._


End file.
